


the easy morning

by lye_kisses



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, like super fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lye_kisses/pseuds/lye_kisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon and Spencer watch the sunrise on the beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the easy morning

**Author's Note:**

> i'm always saddened a little by the lack of brencer fics on here but if you want something done, do it yourself, right?  
> sorry for the lame ass title, i couldn't think of anything else  
> this is a little bit based on a true life experience i had, except irl it was less romantic and gay and i was a third wheel.  
> also s/o as always to my girl hanna for gently encouraging me to finish this

Spencer is on stage, heart beating along to the pounding of his drums, bright lights rendering him blind to everything but the instrument in front of him, and Brendon’s sweaty, lean form strutting toward him. Brendon climbs up onto his drum riser and winks before leaning into Spencer’s space. Spencer can’t figure out what he’s doing, but he doesn't have to, because in a split second he finds himself lying on his back, engulfed in silence, staring up at a pitch black ceiling.

It takes a minute for Spencer to remember where he is: on tour, in a moderately nice hotel, in bed with his bandmate boyfriend. Once he comes to his senses, he realizes that the reason he was jolted awake is because Brendon’s phone is buzzing violently next to his ear, and blaring the annoying tune that Spencer’s been conditioned to wake up to.

“B,” Spencer says, shuffling through the collection of assorted items on the nightstand to try and find Brendon’s phone and shut off his alarm.

“Hm?” Brendon mumbles, scooting close to press himself against Spencer’s back and place a sleepy kiss to the crook of his neck.

“Why did you set an alarm for four thirty in the morning?” Spencer would chalk it up to a mistake, maybe an alarm left over from the day before, except yesterday they’d gotten up at nine, and the day before that at ten thirty. They don’t have any interviews today, and bus call isn’t until after noon, so Spencer can’t figure out what Brendon’s deal is.

“Oh!” Brendon says, sounding more awake than he did a second ago. Spencer can feel him sit up behind him, and he shifts to watch Brendon rub the sleep from his eyes like a little kitten. Spencer can’t help but smile at that, even this early.

Brendon leans and reaches over Spencer to grab his phone and his glasses. “Come on Spence,” Brendon says, adjusting his glasses as he crawls out of his nest of rumpled and, as a result of the previous night’s activities, frankly gross sheets. “Get out of bed and put on some pants, we’re going on a date.”

“A date?” Spencer asks, sitting up, but not making any effort to actually _get up_. He’s going to savor a real bed for as long as he can before they have to hit the road again. “At four thirty in the morning? That involves pants?”

“Yeah Spence,” Brendon replies as he pulls on a shirt off the floor that actually belongs to Spencer. “I wanna go watch the sunrise on the beach.”

“Bren...” Spencer starts to dispute, because he was really looking forward to sleeping in on their day off, but then Brendon turns on his patented puppy dog eyes, and, well. Spencer’s never really been able to say no to those.

Spencer finally climbs out of bed, tugging on last night’s jeans before sliding his phone and his wallet (just in case) into the back pocket. He already has on a shirt, albeit an old ratty one that he’s pretty sure he’s had since high school, but it’s so early and he’s so tired that he can’t bring himself to care.

“You almost ready babe?” Brendon asks, already fully dressed and waiting at the door. Years of touring have made them both experts at getting dressed in the least amount of time possible, so Spencer isn’t surprised that Brendon is ready to go.

“Just need to find my shoes,” Spencer replies, searching their impressively cluttered hotel room for an appropriate pair. Finally, he settles on a pair of flip flops, internally cringing a bit at the flip flop-and-jeans combo (yeah, he used to think it was a good look, but it was a _phase_ , okay?). “Okay B, we can go now.”

Brendon smiles and slides out the door, with Spencer following closely after him.

* * *

 

The air is still morning-cool, but already humid, and Spencer can hear the low roll of thunder in the distance as they step out of the hotel.

“Man, you really picked a good morning for this,” Spencer says teasingly.

Brendon huffs and rolls his eyes, but Spencer can tell he’s not _really_ annoyed. “Shut up dude, it’s not like we could have done it any other day.”  Brendon’s right too. Spencer isn’t completely clear on where their next tour stop is, dates and states and time zones tend to blend together when you’re on the road, but he’s pretty sure that they’re heading toward the center of the country, far away from the east coast.  

Spencer slips his hand into Brendon's by way of apology for his snarky comment and squeezes, causing Brendon to crack a smile and squeeze back. There’s no one around this early in the morning, save for the occasional car passing through a normally-packed intersection, so Spencer feels comfortable leaving their hands intertwined as they continue their stroll to the beach. Their relationship isn’t exactly a secret, their families and closest friends have all known about it since the beginning, but they haven’t actually announced anything to their fans or the general public yet, so PDA is a no. Spencer doesn’t mind too much, he’s not super big on public displays of affection on a good day, but he does like to be able to hold his boyfriend’s hand while they’re out every once in awhile.  

Brendon doesn’t say much during their walk to the beach, but Spencer doesn’t have a problem with his silence. Touring is always loud and hectic, and while Spencer wouldn’t trade it for the world, it’s nice to be able to share a quiet, peaceful moment together.

When they finally reach the start of the sand, Spencer is hit with a gust of briny sea air, and a wave of homesickness for their house in California. It doesn’t last long though, because Spencer gets distracted by the sunrise.

The sky is a painting of sweeping clouds with patches of oranges and pastel pinks that remind Spencer of the flush of Brendon’s skin when Spencer kisses him just because.

In the second Spencer takes to marvel at the spectacle of nature, Brendon detaches himself from Spencer, distracted by the shimmering pools of water left behind by the high tide. Spencer trails behind him, coming to a stop at the first pool Brendon does.

“Spence,” Brendon gasps, voice full of wonder. “There’s fish in here!” Spencer leans over Brendon’s shoulder to gaze into the pool, which is teeming with tiny minnows.

“We’re right next to the ocean,” Spencer deadpans. “Don’t act so surprised.” As much as he adores Brendon, Spencer hasn’t had his morning caffeine fix yet, he can’t be blamed for everything that comes out of his mouth.   

Brendon laughs and affectionately elbows him in the chest as he moves away. “Shut up, asshole.”

Spencer presses a hand to his chest in mock-pain, (and a little bit of real pain, Brendon is stronger than he looks) as Brendon wanders away, intently staring at the ground ahead of him.

“Dude, there’s a real, live conch shell in this one!” Brendon exclaims, pointing to another shallow body of water. “Spencer, you _have_ to come see this, it’s fucking _weird_.” Spencer makes his way over to where Brendon is now squatting, and obviously silently debating whether or not he should stick his hand in the water.

Spencer squats down next to him to get a good look at the conch. The intricately spiraled shell is light brown, and decently sized, but the blob of a snail-beast inside is spilling out of the mouth of the shell, poking what Spencer assumes is it’s head (but really it’s hard to tell) out into the tidal pool.

“It kind of reminds me of a dick,” Brendon says, absentmindedly swirling his finger in the water above the odd looking creature.

Spencer scrunches his nose. He’s pretty sure he should be offended; this thing is _slimy_.

“Oh, but not _your_ dick, babe,” Brendon says, stifling a giggle. “Yours is _perfect_.”

Spencer rolls his eyes fondly, and Brendon leans over to plant a quick kiss to Spencer’s nose.

“Y’know, I almost wish this little guy _wasn’t_ alive and well. He'd be a pretty cool gift for my mom,” Brendon says as he stands up, brushing some of the sand off his legs, and staring down at the conch with an exaggerated frown. “But alas, you get to live another day,”

“You can probably get her one in one of the gift shops around here,” Spencer says, standing up too. “We can go look before we leave.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Brendon sighs. “But it’s not the same. You don’t just find one of these everyday, y’know?”

Except apparently, Brendon is wrong, because they spot at least four other conchs as they make their way down the beach.

“Nature is fucking awesome, Spencer,” Brendon says, after pointing out another conch resting only a few feet away from a horseshoe crab that seems to be burrowing itself into the sand. “I mean look at all of this shit!”

Brendon throws his arms out, looking a little like he’s trying to get the beach to engulf him in a giant hug. Spencer wants to enjoy the beauty of the beach, really, he does, but he’s more distracted by Brendon than anything. The way he’s practically vibrating with joy is more entrancing than the sight of the dynamic watercolor sky, or the soothing, rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore, or any out of the ordinary sea life they encounter.

Spencer is every cliche in the book, but right now he can’t bring himself to care.  

“Fuck!” Brendon shouts, to nowhere in particular. “I fucking love the sky!”

_I love you_ , Spencer thinks, realization hitting him like a truck that he really should have seen coming. He’s loved Brendon for a while now, years probably, but it’s the first time he’s put the words to the way his stomach does backflips when he sees Brendon smile.

“What was that?” Brendon asks, million watt grin lighting up his face as he whips around to look at Spencer and- oh shit, he must have said that out loud. Before Spencer can stutter out a response though, Brendon’s face falls, shifting from an elated expression to one of concern.

“Shit Spence, look at that,” Brendon says, pointing to something over Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer turns around to see the dark storm clouds that he’d honestly forgotten about looming ominously overhead. There’s a bright flash of lightning, and then a booming crack of thunder a few seconds later. The storm is close.

“We should probably get going,” Spencer says, sad that their beach adventure is coming to an end, but a little relieved that he doesn’t have to explain his little slip up. It’s not that he doesn’t think Brendon couldn’t love him back, he’s pretty sure that it’s plausible. It’s just, on the off chance that he doesn’t, Spencer doesn’t want to fuck everything up, from their relationship to the band. He’s not sure how Panic could survive another split.

They’ve walked a good ways down the beach, they’re probably a few streets down from where their hotel is, so instead of heading back in that direction and into the eye of the storm, they start to walk up the beach in the direction of the boardwalk and the rest of the town.

They don’t make it very far before the storm hits. Spencer feels a few drops of cold rain hit him, and then a few more, and then even more still, until it feels like the entire sky’s opened up and is pouring buckets onto his head.

“Race you to the boardwalk!” Brendon says, laughing as he takes off running up the beach, leaping over a small tidal pool and stumbling on the damp sand.

Spencer jogs to catch up with him, but Brendon has enough of a head start to beat him (although, if he’s being honest, Spencer would have let him win anyway).

“Hey slowpoke,” Brendon teases from under the awning of a cheesy t-shirt shop, looking like he’s still trying to catch his breath from his sprint to the boardwalk. “Nice to see you finally made it.”

Brendon’s hair is plastered to his face from the rain, and maybe a little sweat from his run, and he’s looking at Spencer like he looks at the sunrise.

Spencer can’t resist; he cups Brendon’s face in his hands and kisses him, pressing him back against the storefront. Brendon tastes like salt, and rainwater, and a little bit like morning breath, because neither of them brushed their teeth before they left, but Spencer doesn’t care. He’d be perfectly content to kiss Brendon forever, anytime, anywhere, no matter what his mouth tastes like.

They kiss, sloppy but passionate, until Spencer runs out of breath (curse Brendon and his singer’s lungs), and he’s forced to pull away.

“Hey Spence,” Brendon pants, more winded from the kiss than Spencer would have expected. He’s beaming bright, like the lights on stage times a thousand. “Love you too.”

Spencer beams back, kisses him again, because he has to. Brendon _loves_ him. This might be the best day of his life.

He and Brendon stay wrapped around each other, sharing kisses and little smiles until the rain peters out and the newly-risen sun is visible in the sky.

“We could probably start heading back to the hotel now,” Brendon says, in between pecking kisses to the corner of Spencer’s mouth. “Looks like the rain’s done for now.”

“I was thinking we could go get something to eat, I’m sure one of these places serves breakfast.” Spencer says, gesturing down the long expanse of the boardwalk in the direction of more shops and restaurants.

Brendon smiles, a little smug, but mostly genuine. “I thought you were itching to go back to bed?”

Spencer shrugs. He could always use the extra sleep, and they don’t have another hotel night for who knows how long. It’s just, now that he’s here, he’d much rather spend the morning with Brendon. He can take a nap on the bus.

“Look, do you want pancakes or not?” Spencer asks with a playful smile.

Brendon grins, twinkle in his eyes. “I was thinking waffles. Ooh, or maybe French toast!”

“Anything for you,” Spencer says, slipping his hand into Brendon's again as they make their way down the boardwalk.  

Anything.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
